


Fun. I don't like you either.

by MarauderCracker



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anthology of Kurtbastian fics and drabbles. Mostly about Kurt and Sebastian meeting again, befriending each other and falling in love in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In many ways they'll miss the good old days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A summer reunion of the New Direction faces Kurt with the hard question of "how do I tell them I'm dating Sebastian Smythe?"

It’s almost the end of spring and the plans for reunions and parties and Ohio and traveling together and etceterá are all New Directions talk about. From California to Ohio to New York, texts and emails and phone calls and Skype calls come and go.   
In the little apartment that Rachel, Santana and Kurt share, everything is a constant mess of clothes being packed and unpacked, planes being made and cancelled, and the stress of the last exams and assignments of the year before summer vacations. The fact that Sugar, Jesse and Sebastian are there most of the time doesn’t really help to put an order to it.  
It’s the first year that they have really been all scattered, since the younger generation of New Directions graduated too, and they want to make a huge reunion.   
“So, I’m taking Jesse,” Rachel says to the phone that she holds between her cheek and her shoulder as she tries to slice the bread “and Kurt’s taking…” she stops at the middle of the sentence, since Kurt runs to stand in front of her and starts mouthing “ _shut up, shut up_ ” as he pretends to sever his own neck. “And Kurt’s taking like three suitcases, so let’s hope that Sam is not staying in the Hummel’s house,” she lies, and Kurt sighs with relief. “Oh! Sebastian is probably going to be there, since he’s going back to Ohio too! Ouch! Dinner is burning, I’ll call again later!” Rachel says, and hangs up before Tina can say anything.   
“Well, your acting skills did improve, Rach,” Kurt comments, his smile saying the thanks his voice doesn’t.  ”Sebastian said he’d bring beer, and Santana is staying at Sugar’s, so we’re going to have a disgustingly sappy double date,” he adds, and Rachel just smiles. 

It’s June. It’s June and they are on the plane and trying to sneak a last minute text before the stewardess sees them and tell them to put their phones out until they are at cruising altitude. They got delayed by a summer thunderstorm that decided to set over New York City, and they are probably going to arrive to Ohio late for the reunion party.   
Santana says that it’s Sugar’s and Jesse’s fault for wanting to go by plane and not by car; Sebastian says that it’s Santana’s fault for wanting to stay an extra day for going to an audition for a music video, Rachel just takes a sleeping pill because she’s afraid of planes, and Kurt talks to Blaine on the phone to assure that they are going to make it on time. “But I really don’t get why Sebastian is coming to the party,” Blaine says, and Kurt says that “the plane is moving, I have to hang up.”)

It’s not that Kurt is embarrassed about dating Sebastian, really. Sugar, Santana, Rachel and Jesse know it and are perfectly fine with it. But that’s because they know him, they had the chance to see that Sebastian’s promise of trying to change at the end of Senior Year was real, they shared two years (one, in Sugar’s case) in New York with him, they got to see (and laugh at) him as he fell in love with Kurt.  
The rest of New Directions are convinced that he’s just a douche that hangs out with them sometimes because they live nearby or something, and don’t understand why they invited him to their reunion party. Blaine’s still resentful over the slushie-debacle, and everyone’s convinced that he’s still an asshole (well, he probably is, but he’s their friend anyways) and will probably believe that he’s only playing with Kurt.  
It’s not that Kurt is embarrassed about dating Sebastian, really. Actually, he’s kind of embarrassed of the reaction his friends will surely have over the news. 

Sebastian keeps him distracted most of the flight. It’s just a couple hours, enough for Jesse to fall asleep next to Rachel and for Santana and Sugar to go flirt with people in the upper class to get free alcohol.   
Sebastian only needs five minutes of kisses on the neck and sweet whispers to convince Kurt to sneak discreetly to the bathroom, where he can’t think about how he’s going to explain Blaine that he’s fucking Sebastian Smythe in beds, couchs, cars and most recently, planes.  
It also makes him forget about telling Sebastian that the rest of his friends don’t know about them.

When they arrive to the airport, Tina, Artie and Blaine are waiting for them. Tina, Artie, Blaine and a lot of screams and hugs that try to include Jesse, since he started dating Rachel again in their first year in New York, but leave Sebastian out. Kurt throws an apologetic glance his way, Sebastian just shrugs.

The fact that they don’t act all that couple-y saves Kurt from explaining anything for a while. In their way to Blaine’s house to drop their things (they will go get them later, but the party has already started, so they prefer to hurry), most of Kurt and Sebastian’s conversation is about Sebastian Kurt’s enormous suitcases and Kurt calling him a jerk.   
They leave all their suitcases and bags in the Anderson’s living room, and hurry to pile into the car again. Kurt is now fairly sure that he’ll get the chance to wait until Blaine is drunk and content with the universe before saying anything, and is allowing himself to relax as he waits that Santana enters the car to get in himself, when Sebastian decides to reach an arm to pull him by the waist and kiss him.  
(He only pulls aways after half a minute, when Artie whistles loudly. Sebastian doesn’t look at them, though. He just smirks widely at Kurt and says “so, I guess you were looking for a way to tell them, babe.”)


	2. Je suis perdu sans toi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a letter from Sebastian too Kurt. Future fic, post-break up. Warning for drug use.

It’s not even the distance anymore. Because I could have you right here, by my side, and it would be the same. I don’t mind the ocean. I don’t care about the six hours of difference that make talking on the phone so awkward and I don’t care if I don’t get to sleep because I spent all night texting you. There’s more ways of being distant, Kurt. You promised me that we would still be friends. You fucking promised. And you always pride yourself on being such a good person, for fuck’s sake, keep your fucking promises. 

Maybe I’m a little drunk. Maybe I’m a little high. Maybe, just maybe, I haven’t slept in two days and took too much coke and drank too much coffee. When I’m wired all I feel is thirst and the need for another cigarette and this abstinence of your touch I can’t explain. I also talk a lot when I’m wired. I think faster. It used to be fun, you know? When I first got to Paris I was so depressed and it’s like cocaine just dragged me out of it. I had will to live again, even if I needed to be wired to have it. 

I was in a hole when I got back to Ohio. Did I ever tell you that? My parents had took me out of France because I was addicted, and they wanted me to clean up. They sent me to rehab for an entire summer and then put me in a boarding school. The only addiction I had left was coffee. That’s why I was on the Lima Bean all the time, and in our café in New York.

Isn’t it weird? That we have our café? That we share anything? That I miss our café, our shared things, our shared moments? That I miss you like this? That I love you so much?

I think I had (I hate this expression) a crush on you since the first time I saw you. You are gorgeous. You were entering the Lima Bean and I was flirting with your boyfriend and saw you at the corner of my eye. And you were the sexiest guy in the world.

I read somewhere that being in love only lasts three months. I fell in love with you that first afternoon at XOXO. When you were sketching and I was on a date with this guy whose name I can’t remember. I saw you there and just left him alone to go talk with you. When you smiled at me (that first, honest smile, not like all your other smiles before, not the ones directed to me, at least), when you smiled I fell in love with you.

It wasn’t so bad then. When things were right and we were becoming friends and sharing coffees and your annoying friends laughed a bit at me. You were a little heartbroken but happy and things were perfect and I liked you too much but I just thought that it was a crush, that it was attraction, that it would go away. Like this magazine said. (I read it in a magazine, you see?)

But half a year passed by and I still liked you (everyday a bit more) and I felt this thing when you smiled I couldn’t place and then I realized that I wasn’t in love. I knew that I loved you for real and I freaked out.

You know all of this but sometimes I’m afraid I may forget it and that’s why I’m talking about this. And really can’t control what I think anymore, so I might as well let it all out. I should sleep. But I’m always afraid that if I go to sleep, when I wake up you’ll have been a dream.

This is the alcohol. You always said that the alcohol makes me sappy. And I’m drunk and I miss you. I miss those months after I fucked up, after that fight, after we made up and you were my best friend and I convinced myself that I loved you like a friend.

I don’t know what happened. I just don’t know. I was good like that. I really was. But I couldn’t see you go with someone else. I’m selfish and you know it. You knew it back then, and you still chose me. I don’t know why. I don’t know why would you ever choose me. Why would anyone, ever, choose me.

I just want to stop thinking, Kurt. I just keep replaying in my head every time I hurt you and I want to rip my skin off, I want to throw myself from a rooftop, I want to… I want you to be here. I would do anything.

I would give anything to fix all I broke. To turn it all back to normal, back to when we were just friends and I had convinced myself that I loved you like a friend and I had been clean for almost three years. Because I can’t take it anymore.

Maybe it’s Paris, you know? I did say that I was never coming back. I came here to get better the first time, and it only made me worse. And the second time, and here I am. In pieces.

I love you. I really do. I love you in that every song sounds like you kind of way. 

I haven’t slept with anyone since I left, you know? Not that I haven’t tried.

Guys that looked like you, anyone with your eyes or your hair or a frame a bit alike. I just couldn’t. Once I broke down and started sobbing and this poor guy whose name I can’t remember tried to calm me but his voice was so much like yours, and I think I passed out while crying, because I woke up alone in a motel room that had already been paid for.

And guys that didn’t look anything like you. Taller or smaller, a bit fatter, a bit thinner. With a lot of tattoos, with blond hair, with deep dark eyes, with skin so black it was almost purple. I don’t think I even made it to a beedroom with any of them. 

There was even a girl. We ended up talking about politics by the Seine.

I don’t know what I wanted to tell you. I went to the Louvre yesterday. I was mostly sober, I just needed a walk. You always wanted to come to Paris because of the museums and I had never gone to the Louvre. And called Julienne and asked her if she had pot or acid and got really stoned and bought a lock and locked it to that stupid bridge you like so much. I didn’t add anything, and all the other locks had the couple’s names, but I just locked it empty and dropped the key to the water and it was three in the morning and I missed you so much all I really wanted to do was jump from the top of the fucking Eiffel tower.

I don’t know why I’m saying any of this, Kurt. I don’t fucking want to hurt you any more. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never did. I’m sorry. I hope you are not hearing this, I hope you hung the phone as soon as you heard the voice in the message was mine, I hope you are happy.

If you got here, please tell Santana that she shouldn’t deny that she still loves Brittany. That she stop being an idiotic cunt and wait until Brittany finishes college and be with her. And tell those assholes you call friends that if they dare have children I will hunt them down. But, if they don’t listen to me, they should use St. Berry as their last name. That’s the alcohol talking, I swear.

I miss New York. I miss you. Don’t do anything stupid. Study hard. Find someone that knows how to love you like you deserve it. Forgive me, and forget me. Please. But never forget that there’s someone that loves you.

Now I really need to go buy more cigarettes and I’ll try to sleep then. I’m deleting your number, I don’t want to put you through another of these messages. I love you. I’m sorry.


	3. I hate parties.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye!Sebastian and Black Widow!Kurt

“Kurt, do you copy?”  
“Seriously? Do I copy? God, Sebastian, try being any more of a cliché.”  
“Well, I see you do copy. Sweetheart, our target is at your left, the one with the red tie.”  
“I see him. Wait a second; I’m going to get me a glass of wine.”  
“You should tell the waiter to bring me one.”  
“I don’t think he’d be pleased to see you hanging from the curtain, Seb.”  
“I hate parties.”  
“I love parties. Now shut up and be ready, I’m going to get him on your reach.”  
“Everywhere is in my reach, sweetheart.”

Kurt struts past the attendants with a little smirk painted on his lips, sipping at the cup of white wine without letting a single drop slip from his lips. Men and women look at him, some with envy and other with lust. But Kurt is perfectly disguised, his hair dyed black and his eyes darkened by contacts; with just enough make up to tan his skin and a bit here and there to make his features look sharper. Kurt is called Valentino tonight, and that is how he introduces himself.

“Monsieur Delacour, this is Valentino Dárgelos,” Tina says. Tina is an entertainment agent tonight, introducing one of her models to the man who could be his jump to the spotlight. Everything is perfectly arranged, Tina has been infiltrated for two weeks already, and Director Fury has set a back-up plan, in case anything goes wrong. Of course, nothing will.

Kurt fakes an Italian accent and smiles and talks about his work in modeling. Pierre Delacour, the face of a modeling agency and the man who moves all the threads of an international network of slave traffic and forced prostitution, is completely charmed.

“I don’t like him touching you so much,” Sebastian’s voice drawls in Kurt’s ear. He feels tempted to look up, to try to find where his partner is hanging from a curtain or a column, to throw a wink his way. Instead, he just laughs at Delacour’s jokes and ignores the way Sebastian’s angry growl sounds in his earphone. “I hate parties,” Sebastian murmurs, and Kurt laughs at him and not at whatever innuendo Mr. Delacour just made.

(After Kurt has dragged the man out with dirty promises and an irresistible smirk, after he’s gotten him knocked out with two perfect hits, after Delacour’s bodyguards have closed up on him and Sebastian’s arrows appeared out of nowhere to get him out of it, after all the bad guys are tied up and in the back of a truck and Tina waves goodbye before driving off; only after that the mission is over, the party starts.  
Then Sebastian is no longer Hawkeye, and his calloused fingers release the hold in his bow to grab possessively around Kurt’s grip instead. Then Kurt is Kurt again, not Black Widow, not any alias, and he doesn’t need the disguise. They get drunk together in some dark Parisian bar, and crash in the hotel until Director Fury calls.)


	4. Wet cement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skank!Kurt AU. They meet in the Hummel shop, when Sebastian car breaks.

“K! Lend me a hand, yes? Just until your dad comes back!” the employee at the auto shop yells. A high pitched “wait a second” sounds, coming from the back of the garage. Sebastian just sighs and leans against his car.

A pair of heels can be heard making its way to the front of the shop. Sebastian Smythe sighs, expecting someone’s sister to make an appearance and try to distract him until the other guy can get a look at his car. A thump and a yelp sound behind the closed door of the office.

“K, are you ok?” asks the first worker, still laying under a car. The girl doesn’t answer, opening the door instead. And she never comes out.

Instead, a boy is trying to pull down a t-shirt that’s maybe two sizes small for him and stuck at the height of his ribs, while a pair of overalls hang around his hips. The toned stomach is covered in a matter of seconds, just long enough for Sebastian to guess something inked over the left hipbone. Under the overalls, he can see a pair of black boots; the heels barely an inch tall. 

“If you’re going to ask me to hand you something, I’ll…” the boy starts, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead. From under the car, the worker muffles something that Sebastian can’t quite make out, but the newcomer finally notices their customer.

“What do you need?” he asks, sounding bored, as he runs a hand through his hair. He has a lot of his brown hair dyed pink and purple, the smell of tobacco surrounding him like a just-put-on perfume and a dark shadow of eyeliner that makes his blue gaze almost hypnotizing. 

For first time in almost six years, Sebastian stutters. 

* * *

“If you see a truck park out there tell me,” Kurt says as he takes the cigarette to his lips. Kurt, that’s the boy’s name. Kurt Hummel, son of the owner of Hummel’s Tires and Lube, lighting up a Marlboro just before opening the hood of Sebastian’s car.

Sebastian can count three piercings and a gauge in Kurt’s left ear, one on the right side of his nose, one on the oposite side of his lip and two in right eyebrow. They’re small and silver and the boy keeps playing the one on his lip with his tongue, and Sebastian can’t keep his mouth shut. “You could have made a best try on hiding your  girl face. I bet you could hang a veil from the eyebrow to the ear.”

Kurt chuckles a bit, not looking up. He’s got the cigarette in one hand while the other is digging between the parts of the engine, trying to reach something. The only Sebastian knows about cars is how to drive them, but Kurt seemed to know what was wrong only by listening to Sebastian’s description of the “ _symptoms_ ”. He holds the cigarette with his teeth; and takes the spanner from one of the pockets of his overalls.

 He stares. He stares and he forgets to close his mouth for ten seconds straight and, when he notices he’s almost drooling over this guy, Sebastian wants to slap himself. Of course, he doesn’t; and he may be looking a bit too much at Kurt’s lower back; where the coveralls have fallen lower, dragging the jeans under them along; and the shirt has rode up a bit.

“There you go, prep boy, fixed,” Kurt says, taking his hands of the engine. When he turns around Sebastian is looking at his feet, and he laughs. “I could feel you looking at me, didn’t need to see you,” he says, after taking the cigarette from his lips. He smears grease in his chin and the tip of his nose, but the smirk on his face tells that he doesn’t really mind.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was surprised that a twelve years old girl would wear her mom’s boots,” Sebastian sneers. Kurt cocks an eyebrow as he grins and he can’t help but smile back.

“Thirteen years old girls? Really? Didn’t take you for the pedophile kind,” he mocks. Sebastian has the answer in the tip of his tongue, hanging during the second that Kurt takes to take a drag of his cigarette.

“More like twenty-something years old guys, so you don’t fit the bill,” he affirms, trying hard not to look at the way Kurt’s tongue pushes and drags the piercing on his lower lip (and failing pathetically). “Would you mind charging me? Your voice is so sharp it’s giving me a headache.”

Kurt doesn’t add anything else, and Sebastian is too busy gazing at his mouth to notice the surprised gesture in his features. He just puts out the cigarette on the floor and struts back to the office, his heels clicking after him. 

* * *

Kurt is taking off the overalls when the door of the office is opened again. He looks up to snap at Bruce, but it’s not is father’s employee the one standing right outside. The guy in a private school uniform is back.

“What?” Kurt asks, annoyed, as he shrugs out of the suit and throws it to the corner. The skinny jeans he was wearing under it are ripped everywhere and, when Sebastian gazes at them, Kurt wants to hide. There’s something about this boy (something about the rolled up-sleeves of his shirt, the tie hanging loose around his neck, the too expensive shoes) that makes Kurt feel… shy. 

He frowns, makes sure that the pack of tobacco is still on his pack pocket and stares at Sebastian with a look that would never give away how much this guy affects him. 

“I needed a change of water and oil, I forgot,” he says, looking at Kurt in a way that no one has looked at him in years, with that smirk that says “I like you” and “I’m better than you” at the same time. Since he joined the Skanks, no one except for Quinn has even tried to challenge Kurt, and no one dares look at him long enough to find if there’s a reason to like him or not. 

But he doesn’t say such things, of course. Instead, he rolls his eyes and turns around, walking to the door on the other side of the office, the one that leads to the depot. “Go check if Bruce is free yet. If he’s not, I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and doesn’t wait for Sebastian to complain.


	5. No alarms and no surprises.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-break up.

That scene in the movies Kurt likes, that moment in angsty romantic films where everything is sad except the end. A frame of the main (probably female) character, fully dressed, sobbing in the shower. That scene, that moment, that frame. It’s all bullshit. People don’t feel like that in real life.

Except when they do.

He starts crying somewhere around eight pm on a Wednesday. Kurt should be coming back from college, coming to sleep here instead of his apartment, throwing his messenger bag onto the table, dropping his coat in the couch, leaving his shoes in the hallway. Kurt should open the bedroom’s door and complain about the smell of smoke, and put the cups of coffee he brought from the café down the street. And he should lay next to him in the bed, mutter how tired he is, let Sebastian unbutton his shirt and strip him out of his jeans before moving. Kurt should kiss him slowly and mutter that he’s going to take a shower against his lips and let Sebastian join him; and life would be working perfectly.

The door doesn’t open, Kurt doesn’t come in, the bed doesn’t creak under his weight, Sebastian’s mouth still tastes like smoke instead of coffee. And he starts crying. Quietly at first, just sitting against the headboard and looking at the door as he lights another cigarette, and then another and then another and he just lets the ashes stain the covers and the stubs fall to the floor. 

He can’t determine when exactly he moved to be laying in the bed, but standing up seems a lot harder now. He drags himself to the kitchen, sets the coffee maker, slides his feet into the dirty sneakers he uses to go to the gym (Kurt’s absence is in details like that, in the shoes left in the living room for days, in the lack of books and papers and clothes that don’t belong in Sebastian’s closet scattered all around the apartment). It’s November but Sebastian goes out wearing only ripped jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, anyways. Shoulders hunched to cover himself from the wind and hands in his pockets, but not really caring.

“Hey, Sebastian. Are you ok?”

Ruby, the employee at the drugstore, frowns when he enters. (He wants to yell at her that that’s a dumb question, that doesn’t she have eyes, is she stupid? Of course he’s not fucking ok. He’s got his eyes red-rimmed and dark bags under them; he doesn’t remember the last time he ate and his shirt is dirtier than anything he’s wore since he was six years old. He’s not ok.  Kurt left and Sebastian is not ok. )

“Yeah, I’m fine, just college. We’ll catch up later, yeah? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Oh, ok! Say hi to Kurt for me, yeah?”

(Right, it’s only been two weeks, she doesn’t know, she couldn’t know. Kurt only stays with Sebastian a couple nights a week, and he doesn’t go to the drugstore so often, and how could Ruby know? But it huts anyways, and Sebastian wants to scream at her.)

The coffee is cold when he comes back, drops the five boxes of Marlboro on the table and goes to the kitchen to leave the bottle of whiskey. Sebastian guesses that cold coffee, ice, sugar and whiskey might taste good enough. It really doesn’t, but he downs half of the bottle anyways.

Looking at the intersections between the tiles in the wall and trying really hard to stop feeling, and the tears just roll down his face. He moves to take a drag of his cigarette, a sip of his drink, a drag of his cigarette, a sip of his drink. Not to feel, not to feel, not to feel.

It’s close to ten pm when he finally gets up from the counter top, grabs his guitar from the corner of the living room, where it’s been abandoned two weeks ago, and goes to the balcony. He feels like he might start breaking things if he stays in the kitchen with the shadow of Kurt preparing dinner and the traces of their kisses against the wall.

(He sits in the floor of the balcony, with a foot hanging outside and the guitar in his lap. He thinks that this is also one of those annoyingly sappy scenes, he could just sing “Hey there, Delilah” if he wasn’t actually in New York City. He sings “New York, New York” instead, and Kurt’s voice would sound so good with this song, mostly because Kurt’s voice sound good with anything but most than anything because it would sound its best while singing “baby won’t you take me there, make it like you really care”.)

He stays there, singing or just mindlessly running his fingers along the chords, until it’s almost midnight. The alcohol in his blood is slowly wearing off and being replaced by a headache, two of the Marlboro boxes are empty, and his voice cracks at the middle of the chorus of “Use somebody”. He has to stop singing completely as a sob runs trough his body, leaving him breathless. And it’s just one, just one time he tells himself as his ribcage starts hurting and his throat stings and the tears run down his face.

He understands the dumb scenes in Kurt’s movies, finally, when he’s stumbling into the shower, still half drunk and half dressed. He turns on the water and gets under it while wearing boxers and undershirt, leans his forehead against the wall, tries to breathe deeply and fails. 

It’s actually a weird kind of comfort, the warmness of the water and how the sound drowns the shameful moans that escape between his sobs. And sliding until he’s on his knees, weakly hitting the tiles with a loose fist every now and then. He stays there until the water is cold, until the sound of the door opening echoes in the apartment, until Kurt’s voice turns around the corner calling for him. 

First there’s the water that stops running and Kurt’s warm arms around Sebastian, and “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be with Blaine, I never did, I was scared, I’m sorry, please, I don’t deserve it but, please, forgive me.” Then there’s “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pretended that I didn’t care I shouldn’t have been a child and get serious I shouldn’t have made a scene over Blaine. It’s ok, it was my fault,” and they fight over who actually started the fight and Kurt kisses Sebastian until he feels warm again and promises that he will never go again.


	6. Paris in the spring.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Sebastian are gross and cheesy and maybe they have a matching tattoo.

“It’s a dumb story, really,” Sebastian says, smiling against the brim of his glass. Kurt, sitting next to him, is trying very hard to remain serious.

“Come on, tell us!” Sugar insists, leaning over the table towards them, with her hands tight together and an expectant expression. Sitting a few chairs away, Puck turns to them too. “Come on, guys, is there a dirty double meaning?” He exclaims, winking. Kurt chuckles, still silent.

“There probably is,” Santana says, and she winks at Sebastian. Kurt rolls his eyes, and takes a sip of wine. “Don’t try to look innocent, Kurt, we’ve lived together long enough for me to gather audio proof or your perversions,” she adds. Before she can say reveal anything compromising about their sex life, Sebastian interrupts.

“Ok, ok, I’ll tell the story. It really isn’t all that interesting,” he assures, but everyone gets closer to listen. Kurt promises himself that he will never again bring his boyfriend to another one the New Directions’ annual reunions.

“First of all, we’ve got them in 2015. And -regardless what Santana has to say- we weren’t together yet. And no, San, a drunk kiss playing strip poker doesn’t count, I swear we weren’t… No, we weren’t fuck buddies either. We weren’t dating, we weren’t fucking. We were just best friends.”

“What kind of friend invites his best friend to Paris? Come on, you were totally fu…”

“You are officially uninvited to Paris this summer, Santana. Now, let me tell the story. Anyways, Kurt accepted coming with me to Paris when my mother had a car accident. It happened at the beginning of summer and, after she got better, we just decided to stay. Santana, if you say anything I will shave your head in your sleep.”

Kurt interrupts Sebastian anyways. “He’s lying,  _we_  didn’t decide to stay. Sebastian decided so and he forced me to stay with him.”

“Because that’s so not boyfriend-y,” Santana sneers. Sebastian throws a napkin at her.

“Ok, I’m not telling anything else,” he mutters, folding his arms in front of him and making Kurt laugh.

“God, I’m dating a toddler. I’ll tell the story, ok?” Kurt finally says. “I have to admit, Seb bribed me with the promise of what he called ‘Paris’ glamorous night life’ and I accepted staying.”

“That’s secret code for kinky sex,” Jesse comments, and Rachel elbows him in the ribs (though she can’t help but smile).

“I’m going to move out, change my number and get new friends, I swear,” Kurt threats, trying to scowl and failing spectacularly. “Ok, where were we? Right, Sebastian blackmailing me into staying with him. I think it’s important to say that I only went with him in first place because I was the only one of the group left in New York: Santana and Quinn had gone to California, Jesse had taken Rachel to a romantic vacation somewhere…”

“Brazil,” Rachel interrumpts, smiling brightly at her fiancee. Santana pretends to puke.

“Exactly, Brazil. Anyways I only went with Sebastian because I was the last option. We weren’t exactly friends in that moment or, at least, we hadn’t admitted we were. But he couldn’t think of anyone else that could be his moral support while Madelaine was ill, and he came to knock at my door.”

“You are making me look bad, jerk,” Sebastian scowls, and Kurt hushes him. Blaine comments that “you really couldn’t look any worse, really,” and everyone laughs. Sebastian frowns even more, and Kurt leans to kiss him before continuing.

“Turns out that, after a week of crying in my shoulder, having me to bring him coffee and keep him from a mental breakdown, and a lot of tequila after Madelaine got out of surgery and Sebastian decided that we needed to celebrate; he decided that we were, indeed, friends. I was drunk enough to agree with that, and that’s why, kids, I don’t drink tequila.”

“Shut up, it was the best decision you’ve made in your entire life,” Sebastian says.

“You keep telling yourself that, honey. Now, back to Paris. Three days before flying back to America, we were in a bookstore, just going through the shelves out of boredom; when Sebastian found a bilingual edition of a T.S. Elliot’s anthology. Sebastian commented that he was his favorite poet at the same time I said it, and -of course- we started fighting over who liked him more. It was a tie, since Sebastian had read absolutely everything Elliot wrote but I could recite a lot of his poems just from my memory. When we decided to buy the book, the employee told us that that was the only copy left, and we also fought over who got to keep it.”

“Long story short, the book is still passing from one bookshelf to the other every week, and we got inked just the day before coming back to America. “But our beginnings never know our ends!” was both of us’ favorite quote from “Portrait of a lady”, so we just decided to get it,” Sebastian resumes. Kurt’s smile says that the story might be a little longer, a little deeper, but he doesn’t comment on that.

“We decided it in a bar, actually, and that’s why I spent two years without drinking vodka. And one night spent throwing up in the Seine is why I still cringe at the smell of sparkling wine. I’m still surprised that I didn’t quit alcohol entirely after Paris. I made way too many bad choices,” he jokes, and Sebastian pretends to be offended.

“The version we tell most people is that we never imagined that I would go from flirting with Kurt’s boyfriend to being Kurt’s boyfriend,” Sebastian says.

They all laugh and, when Kurt leans to kiss his boyfriend, he raises a hand to cup his jaw and every one can see the tattoo in the back of his forearm, that phrase from a poem that they actually chose for a lot more reasons than being their shared favorite quote. (Sebastian’s one is in the inside of his upper arm, because they considered that getting them in the same place was lame, and - _that wasn’t really the reason why he got it there in the first place but it feels like it now_ \- because it’s closer to his heart.


	7. Timeturner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how things will happen.

Someday, when they are twenty-two or twenty-three and have finally accepted that they are hopelessly in love and won’t get rid of each other anytime soon, they will move together. They will argue over the rent and fight because Sebastian will have gotten too attached to his bohemian penthouse in the Upper West Side, but the perfect apartment will come around and they’ll finally make the decision.

Sebastian will insist in carrying the last of Kurt’s boxes, pile three of them in his arms and climb up the stairs with a cigarette hanging from his mouth and almost tripping a few times. When everything is finally piled up in the middle of the living room, Sebastian will drop to the floor and just sit there for a few minutes, smoking and smiling at the way the sun fills the room while Kurt pays the movers. He will lean an arm over a box labeled “books”, stretch his legs as far as he can without breaking anything from the box tagged “brushes and pencils”, almost let the ashes of the cigarette fall over the folder that has “designs” written in its cover. And then his gaze will finally land in the only box with no labels, no tags, nothing.

He will try to contain his curiosity but, at the end, he won’t be able to help himself. After all, they’ll have years of relationship down the road and no secrets, so he won’t really feel like he’s doing anything wrong by looking into the box. He will open it carefully, and won’t understand what he’s seeing at first. Sebastian will have to think a second to realize that what he’s holding is a prom crown; and he’ll unfold the cheerleading uniform and set the Phantom of the Opera mask aside delicately before going for the football uniform. And, when Kurt enters the apartment smiling and saying that they should just set the mattress on the floor and take a nap, Sebastian will ask him to tell him the stories of this objects.

Kurt will tell him about the pompoms and being popular for a little while, about the crown and that awful prank, about the football uniform and the one time he won a match to prove himself worthy to his dad. And, when he tells him about the audition for NYADA that should have gotten him in but didn’t, his eyes will get a little glassy and Sebastian will hug him tight. And Sebastian will say “I wish you had been accepted, I wish everything you ever wanted was true.”

Then Kurt will have to explain him that he doesn’t. That, if he could, he would still choose being rejected and going for his plan B and bumping across Sebastian in a café near Parsons. And Kurt will smile and say that all he ever wanted was to be loved, accepted and happy; and that’s what Sebastian will give him. That’s what Sebastian gives him, now, when Kurt wakes up in his arms, bodies tangled in a single bed in his little dorm room; after dreaming that they move together and Sebastian finds a box with no tags and no labels, a box with the reminders of all those dreams that ended in the side of the way, leaving space for dreams even brighter.


	8. I can be anything, I'll be your everything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheerleader!Kurt

Honestly, Sebastian Smythe’s never been so interested in football. He played rugby when he was in France, and anyone who’s ever played rugby despises American football. He plays lacrosse now, instead, because Dalton doesn’t have a rugby team and, even if they had, Sebastian had another growing spurt and is now too tall and lean for playing as anything other than a hooker. There’s too many slut-shaming jokes to make in there for Sebastian’s liking.

Sebastian doesn’t consider himself a slut. He enjoys sex and enjoys partying and doesn’t enjoy Ohio’s prudeness. He misses France, particularly how open and accepting everyone was about sexuality. He moved back to the States after everything went to hell (and he doesn’t like to talk or think about what happened, about how he ended up heartbroken and got hooked in cocaine and his mother couldn’t bear it and sent him back to fucking Ohio and fucking Dalton school, where everything is even worse). But now Sebastian is clean and in control and awfully bored, and even in an all-boys school you run out of guys to sleep with after a while. So he is trying to get a football player in his bed. And Sebastian doesn’t consider himself a slut but it would certainly be easier to write his number in a bathroom stall in the local gay bar, Scandals, than survive the three hours of torture that is a football match. In a public school. Sebastian hates the universe.

He wishes he hadn’t quit smoking. He got a bit late, so the first quarter is almost ending, but the gorgeous ass of Blaine Anderson in those tight football pants seems not to be an incentive enough to stay the rest of the match. They guy is sexy and pretty smart, funny when he wants to and not so much of an idiotic jock most of the time; but watching football really is a torture. ”Celibacy is also a torture,” he reminds himself as the guy sitting next to him stands up to cheer for something and elbows him in the shoulder as doing so. This really seems like too much effort for a guy he’ll only fuck once.

The quarter ends and the crowd cheers as the football players leave the field to talk with the coach. Sebastian wants to get as far as possible of the public school’s stench and go for a coffee but, just as he decides that he can’t take this fuckery no longer and stands to leave, something happens. Something rather interesting.

Lady Gaga’s “Government Hooker” starts blasting from somewhere and a group of cheerleaders dressed in bright red run into the field. They are perfectly synchronized as they stand in a circular position with their arms up, moving their hips and short skirts to the beat and vocalizing the intro of the song. But what makes Sebastian stay are most definitely not the cheerleaders. Well, not the female ones. The circle disolves and a single figure stays in the middle. When the principal voice starts, it’s not Gaga’s voice. It’s a bit deeper and probably male, even though it sounds rather androgynous. Sebastian looks again at the cheerleader who’s singing, and it takes him a second to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Red shorts, tight t-shirt and a thin figure. The boy standing in the center of the formation of dancing cheerleaders is all lean muscle and sexy movements, swaying his hips as he sings with the most perfect voice Sebastian’s ever heard. When he walks forward, stands in the hands of two waiting girls and does a perfect backflip without fucking up the song, Sebastian decides that he can perfectly survive the rest of the game if the cheerleaders will perform at the end of each quarter.

“Woah! You go, Kurt!” an Asian girl cheers near to where Sebastian is. He smirks. He knows the name of the guy, all he needs now is to know his number.


	9. (rien.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About Sebastian, tattoos and regrets.

When he was younger, Sebastian wanted to get inked “je ne regrette rien”. It was cliché and silly but when he got back to Ohio he just missed France and the easy live he had there. He was about to get it when he just got back to the States, but his father was giving him limited money to make sure that he couldn’t be spending it in alcohol or drugs or a plane ticket to run away back to Paris.   
And months happened and he never got around to do it and then David happened. And the idea got delayed for indeterminate time.   
But when he got to New York and was actually friends with a few of the Warblers who went there and found that the little group from McKinley accepted him. And he kind of thought that all that happened was good, that everyone had ended up better after all and the idea of the tattoo came back.   
But when he really started becoming friends with Kurt it all changed.  Because he regretted, he regretted a lot of things. The insulting comments, the not-so-harmless jokes, all the things that made so difficult for Kurt to trust him and let himself fall in love with him. He regretted everything because he loved Kurt like he (and this sounded so cliché, cliché as the phrase he wanted to get inked, almost), he loved Kurt like he’d never loved anyone before. He loved Kurt more than he loved himself and it took him a lot to start loving him in a less dependant way, actually.  
But Sebastian never wanted to get a tattoo saying “je ne regrette rien” again. Because he regretted so many thing he couldn’t even start to name them but mostly he regretted any time he had hurt Kurt.  
And maybe at the end he ended up getting that quote from Adam Lambert (and never saying whose it was when people asked because what would be more cliché than the gay guy with an Adam Lamber quote inked), “let’s just stay awake until we grow older”, and he never told Kurt that it was about him and he never explained that he was scared that if he slept too long he would lost something important or, worse, would wake up and find that he was still stuck in that moment where Kurt hated him and he wanted to get inked “je ne regrette rien”.


	10. Shut me up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most recurrent topic over which Sebastian and Kurt argue over is music.

The most recurrent topic over which Sebastian and Kurt argue over is music. After moving to New York, they came across each other in a music store, and instantly started mocking the other’s choices. They only share the liking for a few artists (Adam Lambert, basically), and kind of tolerate a few more (Sebastian likes Marina Diamandis’ lyrics and Kurt recognizes that Franz Ferdinand sound great when they aren’t doing songs that sound exactly the same that any other dance rock band); but fight over musical taste almost all the time.

“Musicals are stupid, Kurt, for fuck’s sake. Stop that shit,” he says the first time Kurt invites him to one of the Friday dinners with his friends. Sebastian arrives early and finds Kurt already cooking and blasting Wicked’s songs. (Sebastian actually likes the rock version of Wicked and everything from Chicago, but he won’t ever admit it.)

“Linkin Park is the worst thing that ever happened to music. Period,” Kurt states while they get drunk together, listening to a friend of their’s shitty band play a cover of Numb. (Kurt likes their cover of Adele and most of the lyrics, not that he would ever let Sebastian know that.)

“Lady Gaga is the most overrated artist of the last three centuries. Give me the bottle, c’mon,” Sebastian growls, with a glare that says that the argument is over. Kurt passes the vodka and changes the topic of the conversation, but doesn’t replace the playlist. (They end up drunk out of their minds and singing ‘Beautiful dirty rich’ in the roof of Kurt’s building. Sebastian knows the lyrics of that and another twenty Gaga songs, but Kurt doesn’t remember the next day and misses the chance to mock him.)

“Why do you always listen to this depressive shit? Rise against sucks, and so does their name,” Kurt complains from his position in the floor of Sebastian’s room, lying shirtless and a bit stoned while Sebastian hangs his head from the edge of the bed to look at him. (After a while, Sebastian starts singing Swing Life Away with the only accmpaniment of his guitar and a cigarette hanging from his lips and Kurt will never say it, but he loves it.)

“You only listen to Jeffree Star for conviction, you couldn’t say that you think his music is good with a straight face,” Sebastian comments while Kurt hums to the tune of Beauty Killer. Kurt steals the glass from his hand, drinks half of it in a gulp, makes a weird face because he hates tequila; and says that he also thinks Jeffree is hot, and wasn’t Sebastian who stated that Kurt couldn’t have a straight face? (Sebastian doesn’t agree and doesn’t admit anything, but he does think that Kurt is hot when he gets wasted and sings I’m in love with a killer, sexy dance included.)

“I like my coffee black, just like my metal? Are this lyrics for serious? Do you even listen to that shit or do you play it to annoy me?” Kurt flops in the bed next to his best friend and keeps complaining while Sebastian goes through the pages of his book.(Actually, he mostly likes the band because he is Sebastian Smythe and they are called Mindless self indulgence. He doesn’t say this, of course. He takes advice from the song and kisses Kurt to shut him up).

Kurt will forever refuse to say that Shut me up is “their song” and Sebastian would die before admitting that they have “a song”. They will never recognize that, sometimes, they like the music that the other likes and sometimes they like each other, too. But it’s ok, they can keep arguing about music even after a first kiss with the worst soundtrack of history.


	11. Don't You Remember When I Was a Bird and You Were a Map?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go on a roadtrip.

It’s summer vacations and Santana went to visit Brittany, and Jesse and Rachel are totlaly consumed by their acting jobs, and Kurt really needs to get out of New York for a bit because he doesn’t want to start hating the city he loves. All Sebastian really wants is to spend a month high as a kite and not thinking about laws and the current state of economy.   
None of them want to go back to Ohio this summer. They can’t exactly explain why but they just don’t. It’s been a rough year and they don’t want to fake happiness for expecting families and facing the too dry and too hot weather of Ohio.

One day, maybe one and maybe eight days after Santana got on a train to visit Brittany and after two or six nights in which Rachel has crashed at Jesse’s, Kurt hears a bang on the door. He’s lying on the floor, wearing only jeans, listening to the music of Rent and trying not to die from how hot their little apartment without AC is. He groans before picking himself up, hating even the slight raise of temperature between floor level and head level.   
When he opens the door, Sebastian is leaning against the frame, smirking widely. “Pack up, loser, we’re going shopping. Well, not actually, but we’re going and you’re not allowed to bring pink clothes with you.”  
“What the fuck are you high on, Smythe?” Kurt asks, raising his eyebrows, and Sebastian’s answer is taking a cigarette box out of his back pocket and show him the ten joints, perfectly rolled, he’s saved there. “What will I need?”

Sebastian’s car is disgustingly expensive, like almost everything he owns. He speeds up out of New York while blasting Tech music out of the stereo, never answering to where are they going, just telling him to light up another joint and smiling while he drives them both to some beach, somewhere. Somewhere he still doesn’t know where is placed, but that’s waiting for them.   
And Kurt just trusts Sebastian and goes along with it, because that’s what friends do. If they end up sharing the bed in a dirty road motel, if they end up drunk and making out against the hood of the car, if they get lost in the way and never find a beach but they find love… Kurt doesn’t know anything about it. They don’t have a map.

In New York Sebastian doesn’t really use his car that much and the previous summer he went to Europe for vacations and probably there’s still a lot more reasons why he never got to know that Kurt knows about engines.   
And when the car dies in the middle of a side road he ends up sitting on the dirt, drinking beer that’s getting warmer by the second and smoking a cigarette and just staring at Kurt as he looks under the hood of the car, and bites his lip with a worried expression, and ends up taking off his shirt because it’s dark blue and the sun hitting it is about to make him faint.  
When Kurt asks him to try turning the car on Sebastian doesn’t really want to, because sitting in the driver’s seat won’t let him see Kurt. But he does so, and at the third try the engine turns on, and Kurt shuts down the hood with a bright grin and all up his forearms tainted with grease.   
Sebastian tries to make it sound like a joke when he grabs his best friends by his jaw and kisses him in the mouth, only for a second and commenting that “do you realize that I just fell in love with you, don’t you?”

Some nights they just sleep by the road, hiding the car between some trees and Kurt complaining about “how will you use a Mercedes to drive a mile into a forest” but they end up lying a blanket or a towel on the grass and Kurt insists on putting on bug repeller.  
They talk about deep things and about silly things and Sebastian lies his head on Kurt’s stomach and they pass the bottle of vodka with orange juice. And is on one of those nights when Sebastian whispers that “remember that party where we made out” and Kurt laughs that “yes, I remember, I certainly thought you would be a better kisser” and Sebastian is oh-so-offended.  
And Sebastian complains about how Kurt’s neck tastes like bug repellent while he straddles him and what pretended to be Sebastian’s proof that he is a good kisser ends up as a tickling war and they both falling asleep tangled.

Sebastian can’t convince Kurt that he stops singing and Kurt can’t force Sebastian to smoke a bit less so the car won’t be a giant bubble of smoke. They stop in cities along the way and Sebastian doesn’t listen when Kurt says that he shouldn’t spend so much money, and sometimes they drink coffee even though the weather calls for ice-cream.

At the end, they do find a beach. Sebastian has no idea how did they end up here, when he was sure he was going the other way, Kurt says that you can’t wait for a lot more if you always drive stoned, and they leave the car in the first reasonable place they see before running through the sand. And it’s one of those little towns without tourists, and it’s past noon and they end up with sunburnt backs and salt clinging to their eyelashes and sand in every corner of their bodies.

They spend maybe one week at the beach. Awake at dawn to see the sunrise, asleep during the afternoons (hiding inside the car), spending entire nights so high they can’t stand and constantly risking their lives by going into the dark sea when they are this drunk.   
And if they kiss in the sand or kiss in the sea or kiss against the door of their hotel room when Kurt decides that they can’t go another day without a shower; they can blame it on the sea. At the end is just them and when they go back to New York Kurt will be sure that this tripis the best decision he’s ever made. Because he was starting to hate the city he loved but it shines with a whole new light when Sebastian holds his hand and they kiss in the rooftop of his building. And Kurt falls in love with NYC all over again, and he’s just glad they didn’t take a map with them.


	12. Coffee and cigarettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NYC!Kurtbastian

Kurt would never smoke. Never. He loves his voice and is very careful with it. He really, really doesn’t understand how a singer could be so negligent to smoke. But there’s so many things he doesn’t understand about Sebastian that one more or one less wouldn’t change anything.

He likes the smell of Sebastian’s cigarettes, actually. Many people in Europe roll their own cigarettes instead of buying manufactured, and Sebastian got the habit in his years in Paris. He buys tobacco, paper thins and filters; and always has some special brand of tobacco or flavoured papers. The smoke smells like vanilla, cinnamon, coffee or chocolate; sometimes cherry, strawberry or bubblegum. He only buys mint papers in summer, along with some virginia tobacco.

Kurt’s favourite ones are the ones he rolls with tobacco with coffee and chocolate papers. The smell of coffee impregnates everything, and the flavoured paper thins always leaves a trace of chocolate in Sebastian’s mouth.

Kurt dated this guy right after Kurt, when he just entered NYADA. He was called Adam and was almost perfect. He looked a bit like Sam, but with darker hair and skin. He was sexy, smart and funny; but he had a major flaw. He smoked like a chimney. He smoked Marlboro and Kurt hated the smell and even more the taste. Kurt forced him to eat chewing gum all the time, because he tasted like an ashtray.

Sebastian is different. Of course, Sebastian doesn’t smoke so much. He smokes sometimes while he studies, and when he is stressed or pissed. He always smokes when they go clubbing, and after sex. Sometimes, he just likes to go up to the roof of the building and smoke for a while. And he always smokes when he is writing. Well, maybe he smokes a lot, but not as much as other people do. That’s something.

The thing about Sebastian’s rolled cigarettes are that the paper thin and the natural tobacco burn slower, and he can be smoking the same cigarette for half an hour. Kurt stands by him in the roof, watching the city in silence. Sometimes, Sebastian turns to kiss him and there’s the taste of chocolate or cinnamon or vanilla; and maybe then he’ll tell Kurt what’s on his mind. Maybe. Most times he doesn’t.

And when Sebastian is studying and pressing the filter between his fingers and smoking in deep long blows and about to break down from the stress; Kurt will prepare coffee for them both and sit next to him and rill him another cigarette (it took him long but he learned at the end) because when he’s very nervous Sebastian gets all shaky and can’t quite control his hands. He will just sit next to him and drink his coffee and then start sketching something in his notebook, and expect until Sebastian calms down, and kisses him and whispers “thank you”.

That’s how they work, that’s how they have ever worked.

It’s with a cigarette in one hand and coffee in between them that finally, one day, Sebastian asks Kurt what they are. Kurt answers that he doesn’t know, that maybe they are only roommates that fuck, that they are friends. And Sebastian nods and presses too hard on the filter of the cigarette and when he takes a drag too long the filter is so smashed he burns his fingers. And he says “thank you”, like “thank you for helping me figure it out”. 

It’s with a cigarette and the taste of vanilla in his lips that Sebastian kisses Kurt in the roof and tells him that he loves him. And Kurt nods and smiles and doesn’t say anything, because that’s how they work. That’s how they have ever worked.


	13. Drift compatibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaeger pilots!kurtbastian

Kurt Hummel is nineteen years old and he’s never been ‘strong’, but he’s athletic and of fast reflexes, he’s cold-headed and good under pressure and vengeful. His mother died when he was a kid, of cancer. When the first kaiju attack robbed him of his father too, the kid turned vicious. Angry and determined but smart enough to not let it affect his performance during the trials for the Ranger Academy. 

It’s been the six most exhausting months of his life, training under the whip of Marshall Sue Silvester, but today, Kurt finally got what he wanted. He’s qualified to be a ranger, after 40 drops in the simulator and 40 fast, calculated, perfect kills. There are only twenty other people ready for trials, and one of them is going to be his copilot.

Compatibility is determined in three tests. A psychological one, that Kurt’s already taken, that determines how the rangers think and what kind of methods they’d apply during a fight, what they prioritize, their motives and ideals. Then there’s sparring, for physical compatibility, to see how well their reflexes and instincts work together. Last, the two pilots who’ve shown to work best together establish a neural bridge in the simulator.

Kurt’s first sparring partner is Santana Lopez, a deadly woman who beats him three out of five rounds. She’s good, very good, but their fighting style is completely different. Next, he goes against Rachel Berry, a small girl who’s as fiery and determined as he is. They end up in a tie. And then, Sebastian Smythe.

Kurt Hummel, let this be known, thinks Sebastian Smythe is a douchebag. An asshole with political connections who escalated his way as a ranger thanks to his last name, an idiot who only cares about getting to pilot the biggest and scariest jaeger and become famous. So, of course, sparring with him is a little more than just sparring. 

Smythe smirks at him, holding the sparring stick loosely next to his body. Kurt’s initial stance is always more rigid, the stick held horizontal in front of his body. But, when the round starts, he’s loose and fast, kicking Smythe’s stick out of his hand in a swift movement. “Don’t get cocky, Hummel, you were just lucky,” Smythe spits, but he isn’t smiling when Silvester calls the start of the second round.

Kurt is on the floor, with Smythe’s arm against his throat, in less that three moves, and considers if he’d get kicked out for spitting him on an eye. Six rounds later, three victories and four defeats in, he doesn’t care so much about getting kicked out. Smythe is angry, he’s angry, and if he doesn’t win this round, he’ll spit at him anyways.

He wins, though. He pins Smythe to the floor with a knee to the small of his back and the sparring stick pressed against the side of his face, and grins down at him before saying “it seems I’m really lucky today.”

Silvester calls the match off, but Kurt takes one extra second getting up, just to enjoy the deadly glare Smythe sends his way as soon as he can remove his face from the floor. Kurt is walking back into place, ready for the next person to come over, when Silvester approaches him. 

"That was excellent, Hummel. Smythe. Go get cleaned up, and present at the simulator in twenty minutes for the neural bridge."


	14. Dalton Reform School

“ _Hummel, give me a match_ ,” Sebastian starts. Kurt rolls his eyes without looking at him. It’s been three months, and Sebastian’s habit of starting conversations with orders hasn’t gotten any less annoying. Well, that and… “ _You look like a hungover Lady Gaga today,_ " that and Sebastian’s ‘compliments’. He refuses to address him in any way, but still searches the pockets of his uniform for the box of matches. 

“ _Thank you, darling_ ,” Sebastian says, and makes a point of letting his fingers linger against Kurt’s when taking the matches from him. It’s been three months, and Sebastian’s constant shift between flirting and being a douchebag hasn’t gotten any less unsettling. He’s not talking to Santana after she threw all the blame on him and got off the shoplifting charges without anything more than community service, but as soon as he can he’ll call Mercedes. He misses talking about boys and complaining about everything with her. The smell of Sebastian’s Parliaments and his hand on his wrist brings Kurt back from his nostalgic fit. Kurt finally dignifies him with a direct look and accepts his matches back. 

“ _Do you wear your collar popped just to annoy me specifically?_ " Kurt asks. It’s a god damn uniform, a grey, dull and boring uniform, and Sebastian still wears the collar popped. It’s so pathetically fratboy-ish that it’s almost endearing. Not that he’s going to tell this to Sebastian. Ever. " _I know you like it,_ " is Sebastian’s answer. Kurt rolls his eyes at him again, but still accepts the cigarette when Sebastian offers it. 


End file.
